Save The last Dance
by GreyWolfe21
Summary: Save the last dance the spashley story T rating just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

SAVE THE LAST DANCE A Spashley Story

Disclaimer:** I dont Own Anything**

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><p>An empty stretch of land in the Pennsylvania countryside parted down the middle by railroad tracks. An Amtrak Commuter crests the horizon. A Girl around 17 or 18 has her face pressed against one of its windows. She looks distant and sad as she looks at an endless stream of sky and trees.<p>

AMTRAK TRAIN

A woman clumsily negotiates the aisle.

Stops at the first of a few empty seats left in the car.

"This seat taken?" looking up, and around. Spencer shakes her head, clears her backpack and magazines from the seat beside her. The Woman drops down, and settles in. after a long silence the woman glances at the American Ballet magazine on Spencer 's lap.

"I love ballet. Never had the body for it. Do you dance?" The woman asks. Spencer turns away mumbling under breath. "I used to." Spencer replies as she gazes out the window. The world outside begins to dissolve melting into images from another time, another place. Her eyes stare blankly out at the world around her, blinded by her memories.

FLASHBACK -KINDERGARTEN RECITAL

_A stage full of five-year-olds in tights and tutus. A_

_little girl performs center stage. She's remarkably poised, and good. A man with a crucifix chain springs to his feet clapping loudly. The little girl's eyes catch the glint of her father's gold chain. She flashes a megawatt smile, and ends the dance with a bow_

BALLET CLASS - (FIVE YEARS LATER)

_Young Spencer, lithe and earnest, dances. A budding beauty_

_blessed with long limbs and natural grace, she makes it_

_look easy. Gliding past the envious stares of_

_classmates, she scans the hall for a glint of gold._

_Finds it in the back of the room where her father Arthur Carlin ,_

_stands watching her. Their eyes connect with mutual smiles._

SPENCER'S HOUSE –(SEVEN YEARS LATER)

_17 year old ,Spencer dancing in the space opened up by cornered furniture and_

_rolled up rugs. As Arthur looks on, Spencer completes the routine with a pirouette. She spins out of it with a preoccupied frown on her face._

"_What's the matter? It was good."_

_Spencer checks her stance in mirror_

"_Everybody there's going to be __good, Dad. I have to be better."_

"_My knees still knock when I do my __free form. Did you notice that?"_

"_I noticed that it was fine."_

"_It's not supposed to be fine. It's supposed to be special; and it just lays there, it doesn't do anything. I bet they notice that. That it doesn't do anything. That I don't do anything special enough to get in."_

"_Spencer. You'll get in."_

"_Don't lie because you love me. My free form sucks."_

_Arthur sighs and says_

"_I've got something for you. Come on. Sit. Mouth closed, eyes shut. No pouting. No peeking."_

_Spencer flops down on the sofa beside him. Closes her eyes._

_Arthur removes the Crucifix chain from his neck, and fastens it around Spencer's._

"_For luck tomorrow. Not that you'll need it. You dance like an angel."_

_The necklace is Arthur's talisman. Spencer knows what it means to him. She throws her arms around Arthur, holds onto him tightly._

"_I love the necklace dad but you're still the best luck I'll ever have."_

_Arthur, not one to choke up, chokes up. They cling to each other._


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the Reviews and for adding me to you alerts**

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><p>In the blink of her eyes, the memory fades. She pulls the window shade, shifts in her seat. Her fingers travel to the clover necklace at her throat. Linger. The Woman regards her and the chain.<p>

"Nice... the necklace." The woman compliments

"Oh. It's a good luck charm. Doesn't always work."

The Woman's wearing a crucifix. She points to it and smiles. "Mine either."

FLASHBACK

_A sea of young white faces. A jock entertains the troops with two straws up his nose. Spencer sits next to her best friend Danielle; chomping on a wad of gum Danielle turns from the jock to look at Spencer with a bubble in bloom, as she bursts it with her teeth._

"_Wanna pray? You're leaving for Philly after first period. I won't see you. We should pray." Danielle Says with a straight face. Stupefied spencer looks at Danielle_

_"Danielle... no. Not here." Danielle grabs Spencer 's hand and bows her head. Spencer , embarrassed, bows her head along with Danielle's. She's praying nobody sees them._

_"Awesome, Father, S.J. auditions today. She's ready for them. Please make them ready for her. Even if she screws up. Thanks. Amen." Danielle shrugs as she pops another bubble. "God's gotten me outta all kinds of shit. He oughta be able to get you into Juilliard."_

LATER THAT MORNING

_Spencer exits the school with a bouquet of roses and takes the steps two and three at a time. Arthur's waiting in a 1963 Mercury Comet at the curb._

_Arthur takes notices the roses in spencer's hand._

_"Where'd you get those?"_

_"Ellison - Mr. Ellison. He_ _actually told me to break a leg."_

_"Roses from the principal, even droopy yellow ones, is beyond cool, kiddo. You're definitely movin' up in the world."_

_Spencer looks through the windshield. It's starting to rain._

"_Know what would be great? If you_ _didn't drop me off at the bus_ _station. If we just kept going_ _until we get to Philly."_

_"Ruin everyone's Valentine's Day and not have a restaurant when I get back. That's your definition of great? I can see the headline now: 'Starving Artist Kills unfit father." Arthur smiles gently at spencer he knows that his daughter wants him there but he has to run the restaurant._

_"Sweetheart, we talked about this. I'll get there as soon as I can." Spencer looks at him and Arthur instantly feels guilty._

_"Right. This is the hardest, most important day of my life and all you can do is get there as soon as you can. Thanks, Dad._

_GREYHOUND BUS STATION_

_Arthur pulls the car into the parking lot. Smiles at Spencer. Spencer doesn't smile back. She's too angry. Too scared._

"_So I guess I'll see you later." Spencer says as she starts to open the car door_

_"I won't miss your audition, Spencer. I'll be there, okay? If I have to swim the Susquehanna, I'll be there." Arthur says_

_"Swim? You can't swim, Dad." _

_"I'll float then."_

_They look at each other for a moment... then spencer finally smiles. They embrace and she hops out of the car. Arthur calls after her._

_ARTHUR_

_"Hey... Happy Valentine's Day sweetheart."_

AMTRAK TRAIN

Feigning sleep. From the corner of her eye, she watches the Woman beside her flip through the American Ballet Magazine.

_FLASHBACK - UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA _

_Spencer , in costume, flips through a magazine. She taps her_ _toes, checks her watch. A crowd of parents and dancers_ _are clustered around a sign posted on the door:_ _JUILLIARD SCHOOL OF DANCE AUDITIONS. Spencer stares at it as she re-checks her watch. An official with a clipboard walks_ _toward her. She looks around for her dad?_

_MOMENTS LATER _

_Spencer is standing on stage. She looks past a row of Juilliard JUDGES_ _into the audience. No glint of gold. "Elvira_ _Madigan" by Mozart cues up. Spencer begins her technical._ _She transforms her nervousness into a notable, powerful_ _performance. The Judges are mutely but clearly_ _impressed. One of them looks directly at her and asks;_

"_Is there anything you'd like to_ _share about your free form before_ _you begin? A motif... a theme?"_

_Spencer 's stomach drops to her feet. Her father's not there_ _and her free form sucks and she doesn't have a theme._

'_Shit!' spencer thinks_ _"Well, it's um, pretty self explanatory._ _The theme."_

_The Judges exchange a look. New music cues up. Some_ _driving, classical number. Spencer tries to elevate her_ _body above the music, but she's nervous, unsure on her_ _feet. She keeps glancing in the back of the auditorium_ _for Arthur. Searching for her port in the storm._ _Wondering where her father is and knowing how badly she's_ _dancing. Knowing but somehow continuing, stumbling,_ _recovering, and finally finishing with those damned_ _knocking knees. The Judges, eyes like stones,_ _perfunctorily nod. Their equivalent of maybe next year._

_Spencer chokes two words out..._ "_Thank you."_ As she _rushes backstage. Fighting tears, she hurries past_ _waiting dancers angrily unhooking the crucifix chain_ _from her neck._

_Spencer in her street clothes. Cramming her ballet gear into a_ _duffle bag when the official with the clipboard_ _approaches her. She touches Spencer's shoulder gently and whispers something into her ear. _

_OFFICE (UNIV. OF PA)_

_A state trooper in a_ _rain slicker offers Spencer a chair. She sits. The trooper_ _talks. As he does, dread and disbelief spread over_ _Spencer 's face. She shakes her head, attempts to stand._ _Her legs buckle beneath her. The trooper and the_ _official catch her as she falls._


	3. Chapter 3

**I Still Don't Own Anything Thank you for the reviews.**

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><p>AMTRAK TRAIN<p>

A glowing moon in a clear, star-specked sky.

The train chugs toward Baltimore's Penn Station

FLASHBACK

_A torrential rain. A car - Arthur's van - caught_

_in 's face, intense and determined, squinting_

_through the downpour._

The train's wheels grinding.

FLASHBACK

_Cars wheels Hydro-planing._

The squeal of the train's brakes as it maneuvers into the station.

FLASHBACK

_The squeal of the car's brakes as Arthur loses control and_

_smashes into the back of the eighteen wheeler in front of_

_him._

Across space and time, the sound of squealing brakes commingle as the Amtrak Commuter pulls into Penn Station. Spencer is Holding her breath, and clenching her fists. Waiting for the sound to stop, oblivious to the stare of the Woman beside her.

Passengers disembark from the train. A conductor helps Spencer to the platform. Steam from the train's engine is sucked into the fog. She walks through it and Sees her mother PAULA CARLIN, 37, a beautiful, laconic woman of uncertain style, take the last drag from her cigarette, drop and stomp it out...when she looks up they see each other. Paula weakly waves and Walks toward Spencer as Spencer watches her long legs stiffly advance. She wants to run but can't.

"Hi." Paula says

"Hi." Spencer replies

"Have a good ride?"

Spencer self-consciously tucks her hair behind an ear." Slept through most of it."

Paula looks at her. "Guess you got stuff. Baggage?"

"Two suitcases. One big one."

"Looks like they're unloading. - You hungry? We can stop somewhere if you want." Paula says as she and spencer walk toward the luggage.

"I'm kinda tired." Spencer replies as Paula takes her backpack. They walk out side to Paula's pickup truck. There is a heavy silence. Paula starts to turn on the radio, stops herself. She lights a cigarette, and cracks the window.

"I didn't like leavin' you so soon

after the funeral. I wouldn't have if you hadn't asked me to go. I mean, I could've hung around. Helped you say good-bye. That's what you were doin', wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh." Spencer replied

Paula takes another drag, and nods thoughtfully to herself.

"That's what I figured you were doin'."

Spencer peers out the windshield. Baltimore City. The neighborhoods are changing. The streets are getting progressively gritty and dirty. It surprises her. It worries her. Paula worries her.

"Look. Spencer. I feel bad too. I mean, we both got hit by the same bolt of lightning. You don't have

to pretend this is easy. Everything's upside down right now but don't worry. We'll work this bachelorette-mother thing out. Hell, it ain't like we're movin' in with strangers. We got a pretty good

idea about each other, right?"

Spencer looks at her, her expression indicating otherwise. Paula's too new at this to hold up both ends of the conversation. The silence deepens. Paula switches on the radio.

BOND STREET (SOUTH BALTIMORE)

Paula pulls her truck up to a string of disrepaired rowhouses with pristine white marble steps. She and Spencer each lug a suitcase from the truck. Spencer's eyes wander up and down the street. They're on the fringes of the ghetto. A few people roost on their stoops, hang on the corners. All of them have black and Hispanic faces.

"Thought you were moving to Fells Point." Spencer states

"Fell through." Paula Replies

Paula's apartment is on the second floor of a two-story house that has been turned into a one-bedroom studio. A partition separates the living area from the bedroom. Spencer walks past a collection of medical books, Saxophones, and several framed pictures of herself. Aside from the medical books, Saxophones, and the pictures, there's hardly any furniture. Paula lights a cigarette.

PAULA

"Not much of what you're used to. But the water's hot and the fridge is full. And I made room in the

closets for you. Girl's gotta have closets, right? You even get your own bed. I'll crash on the couch."

"You bought a bed?" spencer asks shocked

"Pardon me. Your own futon. Check it out. On the other side." Paula watches as spencer

Suitcase in hand walks around the partition. Spencer's "room" is an old futon, an ancient set of drawers. She

stands in the middle of nothing, wanting something to do. She removes framed photos of Arthur from her backpack, and places them around the room.

A couple of minutes later Spencer walks into the living room and Doesn't see Paula. So she Calls out.

"Do you have a phone?"

Paula emerges from the bathroom drying her hands, and walks past spencer.

"Of course I have a phone." Paula says

"You didn't at the last place. The last place I saw anyway." Spencer replies

"Things change. You've changed. You grew up on me. Overnight."

" Not overnight you just weren't there."

"I wanted to be there it was just hard with my job and the band"

"Over the summer. You blew me off for some gig on the road, remember? You could've been there if you really wanted to be you're my mom you should've been there." spencer replies and before paula can

respond spencer asks "Can I call Danielle? Let her know I got here alright."

"Are you alright, Spencer?" Paula asks and from the scowl in her eyes paula gets her answer.

"I just wanna know how you feel." Paula says softly

"I feel fine. I feel like calling Danielle." She's a wall. A brick wall. Paula's head aches from knocking into it. She goes to the couch. Drops down and Mutters at her. "Phone's in the kitchen. Knock yourself out."

After talking to Danielle, Spencer goes to her room and lies on her bed... wide awake... her stiff upper lip quivering. She slips out of bed, creeps on tiptoes into the bathroom. Closes the door oh-so-quietly behind her. She flips on the light, crosses to the sink, turns on both faucets. As the water flows the pipes rattle, and the brick wall shakes. Spencer crumbles to the floor and buries her head in her arms as she cries like a baby.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry It Took So long but here is the next Chapter It is a little longer i hope you like it**

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><p>The next morning Paula and Spencer are barreling through the south end; A Pop-Tart grows cold on Spencer's lap. Then, finally Spencer says "I can take the school bus tomorrow." Paula chuckles as she says "School bus? That's the other Oz, Dorothy. Patterson kids ride the city Metro. Or walk." Spencer rolls her eyes as she says "Well, I know how to do both."<p>

Paula shakes her head as she responds "Not around here you don't. Not until you get the hang of things." Spencer looks out the window at a full-fledged ghetto. It's all to obvious, the hang of things. Paula glances over at her. "I called about your transcripts. You're all set. Patterson's got a pretty good Humanities program. No ballet, but we can find a studio someplace close for after school." Spencer looks at Paula and says "I don't think I'll have time. I have to study, I'll be busy." leaving no room for argument. Paula can hear the lie behind her words. The pain too. She lights a cigarette, and cracks the window. She wants to say the right thing. "Good idea. Take a break. Not too long a break though. You're a dancer. You should dance. Stay on top of your art." Paula finally says "Like you stay on top of yours?" Spencer asks as she looks out the window

"Maybe I'm not playing any grand ballrooms or fancy jazz festivals, but I'm playing." Paula says defensively "I didn't mean it like that." Spencer says unconvincingly. "It's alright. Hell, I wish I had half the time I wasted getting' wasted or working at the hospital. But those days are over. You'll see. I got my life on track." Paula said as she pulled to a stop in front of a Formidably large and surprisingly well-kept two story building "well here we are Patterson High School" she says as Spencer looks out at the kids who malinger outside on the front steps and lawn. Paula cuts the engine. Spencer looks at her. She won't let her eyes connect. "You don't have to go in with me. Since I'm all set. I mean, I have done this before. I'll be fine. I am fine. Really." Paula regards her with weary resignation as Spencer climbs out. She calls after her.

"I'll pick you up at three-thirty." "Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Spencer says over a shoulder.

Spencer is moving through a sea of faces. This is a near out-of-body experience for her. She walks like a well-rehearsed soldier in a stiff straight line to the school's entrance. It's clogged

with students. Inside the doorway, two security guards flank a metal detector. When it's Spencer's turn to pass through, one of the guards grabs her backpack and wordlessly begins searching it. He hands it back to her on the other side of the detector where Spencer stands obtusely and mutely amazed. Spencer walks into the admin. Office the secretary looks up at her and points to a open door Spencer walks in and the woman inside looks up and waves her hand towards the seat across from her Spencer takes the offered seat and sits down. The woman starts talking "It's no fun being uprooted in the middle of your senior year. We realize that and we'll do what we can to help with the transition." There's a knock at door. Mrs. Thomas, the Guidance

Counselor, steps in. The Administrator introduces her to Spencer. Spencer regards Mrs. Thomas with polite petulance. "Any questions? Concerns?" Mrs. Thomas asks. "About school? No. Not really." Spencer replies. "Not even about Baltimore?" Mrs. Thomas asks.

"I'm not gonna be here that long. Besides, it's just a city, right?" Spencer replies

Mrs. Thomas looks at her squarely. But the brick wall doesn't move an inch. Spencer feels too safe behind it. Clutching new textbooks, Spencer starts down the hallway. She's hoping nothing in her face reveals the rising panic in her heart. She's surrounded. Alone. Every inch of her feels afraid.

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><p>SPENCER 'S POV<p>

as I moves forward. A crowd of kids mostly Black and Latino with a sprinkling of white faces thrown in. Kids like her. Only they don't dress like her. They dress like commercials for Tommy Hilfiger and Calvin Klein. And they definitely don't sound like her...

TEENAGER #1

Yo, man, check it, the muthafuckers wasn't playin', they was jackin'. Ten rides in five days. For real.

TEENAGER #2

Fools got caught for real too. Ten years in five days. Stall that shit!

Spencer walks on, taking this netherworld in, eavesdropping on other conversations. It's not just the words. It's how they say them: Loud. Matter-of-fact. Cool. A cooler cool. Like they breathe static electricity.

That's it! The entire student body is energized. Spencer 's thoughts are jolted by two black girls squeezing by. One clips Spencer 's elbow as she passes, knocking it against a locker. They keep going as if they don't see her. No one seems to see her. Welcome to mass avoidance at Patterson High.

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><p>NO POV<p>

Spencer is standing at her locker when a tall, pretty, black girl swoops Spencer's backpack from

the floor and Thrusts it at her.

"That's how easy it is to give to charity around here. Don't put your shit on the floor." The girl says

"Thanks." Spencer says with a cautious a smile. She closes her locker, starts to say something else eager to make a friend but the girl is gone.

Spencer memorizes the schedule of classes in her hand. She passes a clutch of students who surround a kid in the middle like a horseshoe. Spencer gets a fleeting glimpse of

her. Tan and heartbreakingly beautiful. If Patterson were a monarchy, Ashley would be king. She sure holds court like one, turning on her dazzling nose-crinkling smile and abundant charm for the crowd. One gets the sense that the All-American Home girl is almost as enraptured with herself as the sycophants around her. Spencer continues down the Hall until she gets to her first class of the day she walks in and looks around. The name on the board is MR. COTTERILL the room's seen better days. Probably better teachers too. Mr. Cotterill looks out at his American Literature class and sees nothing but tenure.

"In Cold Blood represents a turning point in our country's literature. Take the cap off and tell me why that is, Ms. Perez." Mr. Cotterill Says As he looks toward a short Hispanic female in the back of the class.

Spencer recognizes her from the hallway as one of the kids wrapped up in the pretty removes her baseball cap. Thoughtfully twirls it on a finger. She truly believes she's being profound. "Gay rights. That Compote dude who wrote it? Sweet tooth. Straightup fag, Mr. C." The girl says. "Thank you, Ms. Perez. Your genius grant is in the mail. Anyone else?" Mr. Cotterill Asks No one volunteers. Cotterill looks for someone to put on the spot. Sees the new girl in a back corner. Carlin. He gets into her line of sight. The class shifts in their seats, looking at her. "Ms... Carlin. You can catch up later. If this is over your head." says. Everyone looks at her. The way kids look at new kids.

"It's a non-fiction novel. The first of its kind. Capote mixed true events with things he couldn't know, so he made them up." Spencer answers.

"White folks back then felt safe. Capote scared 'em. He took hard core crime out the ghetto and dropped it in America's back yard. That's what makes the book special." someone says in rebuttal to Spencer's answer.

Spencer cranes her head to see who it was. God. It's the girl from the hall the heartbreakingly beautiful one she's sitting on the other side of the classroom. Looking pretty. Looking at her. She has nice eyes. Not that she noticed.

"Yeah. That is part of it." Spencer agrees

"That's all of it. Capote wasn't first. Richard Wright and James Baldwin did the same thing. Wasn't nobody tryin' to read them though." Ashley informs her

"Lots of people read them." Spencer says defensively.

"Lots of people like who? You? Hello. Didn't think so." Ashley says sarcastically

"Mr. C.! Girl needs to bone up. Give her a pass to the library." Ms. Perez says as The room erupts in laughter. As Cotterill quiets the class. Then he says "She can have your pass, Ms. Perez. Since you obviously never use it."


End file.
